


Pretend Like I Am

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 14 Inspired [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x01, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cas in Dean's room, Castiel-centric, Coda, Dean's shirt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Good Sam and Cas moments, Longing, M/M, Outbursts, PB&J Sandwiches, Stranger in a Strange Land, Sunshine - Freeform, molecules, peanut allergies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Coda to 14x01Everyone was tired after facing down the upstart 'King of Hell' and his minions - everyone except their bait: Castiel. He doesn't need rest, even after the beating he suffered. So he wanders - physically and mentally. There's so much bottled within, and it's confusing for the angel. His heart finally too much for him to handle. He has to release some of what he's feeling somehow.Luckily there's another person in the Bunker who can't really rest either.





	Pretend Like I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So that premiere right? I liked it - for once I wasn't so anxious watching it. Not like I was last year - phew! Anyway, hope this helps kick off another season of Supernatural!

            Castiel runs a callous finger down his cheek, inspecting the wound closely. It stings, the grace thrumming under his skin rising to the bait, ready to heal. He pushes it back down, unwilling to free it. Instead, he runs the faucet and lets a towel soak under the stream. And then, softly, he drags it across his face; scraping away the dried blood and exposing the dark marks left by his captors.

            When he finishes, he grabs for another nearby towel to dry. Castiel lingers with it, breathing deeply of its scent, before pulling it away. He leaves both towels on the edge of the sink and stares once more at his face, taking in clearly his signs of failure.

            “Cas?”

            He sighs, stepping away and out of the bathroom. Sam stands awkwardly at the edge of the entryway. Castiel watches him, Sam’s eyes trained on the bed, where a worn purple plaid shirt lies crumpled on the pillow, with little flecks of red scattered about. He clears his throat, drawing Sam’s attention away from the fabric. 

            “Sam?” he asks, “What is it?”

            “I, uh… I got a phone call,” Sam says, shaking out of his stupor, “From Sister Jo.”

            “Her?” Castiel blinks, “Why would she be calling us?”

            “Apparently she’s been visited by an angel,” Sam tells him, “An _archangel_.”

            “Dean?”

            “Yes.”

            “Where is she?” Castiel continues, walking closer, “Where is _he_? Are they still together? Does she know –“

            “Cas, Cas!” Sam grabs his shoulder, “It’s not… he’s long gone from her.”

            “But,” he tries again, “There has to be something? Otherwise she wouldn’t have called.”

            “You’re right,” Sam says, “Jo wants to meet, talk about it in person.”

            “When do we leave?”

            “We aren’t,” he says, “She’s coming to us.”

            “…Why?”

            “Protection? I don’t know,” Sam sighs, rubbing at his brow, “She sounded skittish on the other end. Whatever Michael said to her must have… really freaked her out.”

            “Only more good news,” Castiel growls out, “When is the next harbinger calling? I’ve been told these things come in threes.”

            “Cas…”

            “Sorry, sorry,” he says, taking a step back. “Jo… when did she say she’d get here?”

            “Sometime around morning,” Sam shrugs, “Maybe even closer to lunch…”

            “Huh.” He lapses into silence, sorting through his thoughts while keeping his pessimistic comments from surfacing. In the meantime, Sam’s eyes have drifted back over to the bed.

            “You sure have made yourself comfortable…”

            “What?”

            “Sorry, sorry, it’s just…” Sam leans against the doorjamb, “I’ve been avoiding Dean’s room for so long. Didn’t feel right to be here if he wasn’t… I mean it’d be like acknowledging he really was…”

            “I understand your precaution.”

            “Then why?”

            Castiel re-focuses on the bed, drawing closer to pick up the shirt. He smiles at it, stroking the fabric reverently. “For me, it’s the opposite. By ignoring Dean’s room, it seems like we are truly giving up. Being in here… I feel safe. Like maybe… maybe we _will_ save Dean.”

            Sam smirks at the fond expression on Castiel’s face. “If we do, Dean might not be too keen to share.”

            “I wouldn’t be _too_ sure…”

            He raises a brow at the response. The expression quickly shifts, however, as a yawn breaks from behind the curiosity. “You should rest,” Castiel tells him, “We still have a long battle ahead of us.”

            “I’ll try,” Sam nods. He steps away, only turning back around in the next moment. “Almost forgot,” he says, “I wanted to check in on Luci… _Nick_. Maybe see if he wanted to eat? Do you think…”?

            “I’ll handle it,” Castiel tells him, dropping the shirt back onto the pillow, “Go. Sleep.” Sam smiles, and then leaves him. He waits a beat for the other’s footsteps to fade before he moves. Castiel takes the other path towards the kitchen, closing Dean’s door over just enough that no one will pry, but still not fully shut.

            When he walks in, Mary and Bobby are just finishing their beers. They look up, slightly scandalized at the intrusion. Mary pulls away slightly, playing with the label of her empty bottle.

            “Castiel,” she says, “Probably the last person I’d expect at this hour…”

            “My apologies,” Castiel tells them, “I’m only hear to make a meal for Nick.”

            “Ah, right,” Mary nods, “Did he ask for anything?”

            “Not… not specifically?” Castiel shrugs, “Sam suggested he might want to eat, so I thought maybe a… sandwich?”

            Bobby tips the remainder of his drink back into his mouth, and wipes away the excess from his beard. “Think you can handle one o’those?”

            “I haven’t made one in awhile,” Castiel says, reaching for a plate, “But the construction is hardly difficult. That is… if we have all the ingredients readily available.”

            “We’ll leave you to it, then,” Mary chuckles, rising, “Come on, Bobby.”

            He follows at her heels. “Whatever you say, sunshine.”

            ‘ _Sunshine_ ’

            The plate almost drops. The gruff affection with which Bobby spoke struck a sour chord within Castiel, taking him out of the moment and back to a simpler time. If chasing the devil from vessel to vessel was ‘simple’. Still, Castiel would give anything to return to those days.

            He clears his mind of the word and focuses on the sandwich. Castiel breezes through the kitchen, finding the jars of peanut butter and jelly with ease. Choosing between whole wheat and white bread gives him pause, but he picks the former – ‘ _Might help him recover faster_ ’. He spreads peanut butter smoothly onto one side, but scrapes the jar to use up the remainder of the jelly. There’s enough for the other half. It’s not long before he’s cutting off the crusts and slicing the sandwich in half.

            The walk from the kitchen to Nick’s cage is longer. It was about as far away as Dean’s room was, but each step adds a new sense of foreboding. Logically, he knows there’s nothing to be afraid of from Lucifer’s former vessel. But his own body can’t take the chance, and delays the inevitable as long as it can.

            Castiel slows to a stop in front of the door, food in hand. He brings a fist to knock, but decides against it, instead opening the door without warning. Nick raises his head from his pillow, smiling as non-threateningly as possible.

            “Castiel?” Nick asks, sitting up, “What brings you here?”

            “Checking up on you,” Castiel tells him, rounding the trap, careful not to step over the edges. “Are you hungry?”

            “I mean… I _could_ eat?” he springs to his feet, stepping closer to the edge. Castiel holds the plate out for him, and Nick reaches closer. His nose twitches, however, and he pulls away.

            “What?”

            “That sandwich?” he asks, “It wouldn’t happen to have… peanut butter in it, does it?”

            “I – uh… yes. Yes it does?” Castiel tilts his head to the side, “Is that a… problem?”

            “I’m… I’m allergic.”

            “Allergic?”

            “Like, severely,” Nick takes a step back, “one touch and I could be breaking out in hives – not to mention what would happen if I actually _ate_ it.”

            “I’m… sorry?” Castiel frowns, “Is there anything else I can get you that won’t – uh… kill you?”

            “No, it’s – I’m good,” Nick chuckles, scratching at his wrist, “Really. I didn’t even – it’s fine. It’s really fine.” He moves back to his bed, Castiel watching all the while. Nick slowly tucks himself into a cross-legged position, rubbing his hands up and down his arms rhythmically. The very human sight before him keeps Castiel rooted to the spot.

            “Was there… something else you wanted?”

            “No, I just…” Castiel pauses, searching for the words, “This is… very strange.”

            “Preaching to the choir, man.”

            “Sorry, this is more confusing for you – I know,” Castiel starts, playing with the plate in his hands, “But the last time I had lain eyes on this vessel, Lucifer was so… so imposing and mighty and now –“

            “All that’s left is me,” Nick snorts, “you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

            “Dean used to say something like that,” Castiel says, “sometimes with that same tone… sometimes not…”

            “How is the hunt for Dean going?”

            “It’s… it’s how you would say…” Castiel sighs, “it’s going?”

            “That bad, huh?”

            “We might have a lead,” he continues, placing the plate on the floor, joining it, and leaning against the wall, mirroring Nick’s position. “But, like most things these days… it’s a long shot.”

            “Hey, it was a long shot that I’d still be alive,” Nick points out, “But look at me, here, with all of you.”

            “Yes, that was a surprising turn of events,” Castiel nods, mind spiraling with a simple question. It trudges up to the surface every now and then, even though the answer has been stated over and over again, he still couldn’t let it go. “Lucifer,” he says, tracing the lines of the sigil with his eyes, “He’s… gone?”

            “Of course,” Nick tells him, “There’s nothing in here,” he taps at his chest, “Not even any feelings – although, I’m pretty sure I’m still in shock. Once that wears off I might have a panic attack, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

            “Funny,” Castiel says, uncaring of Nick’s tangent, “Back in Heaven, when talks of the battle were whispered among the Host as we went about our days, it was said that Lucifer’s destruction was to bring about paradise. However, like most things of my youth… that was just a lie. It would only be paradise for us angels, and the humans would have suffered under the yoke of Michael just like they would have if Lucifer won. Each side of the coin was marked with an apocalypse. Except the world carries on… it’s nothing like we told stories about but also nothing like we saw in the other universe. Either way it still feels like it’s all ended… like _my_ world has ended.”

            “That’s… pretty deep.”

            “And it’s all because Lucifer couldn’t just stay dead,” Castiel finally meet’s Nick’s gaze once more, eyes burning bright with fury. “He kept prattling on, even when we cast him away – raging against his own emptiness.”

            Nick leans back, eyes wide and palms open. “Hey, former vessel here – no relation to the guy you’re angry with!”

            He gets through to Castiel, and the angel deflates before him. “My apologies once more. I… I let my emotions get the better of me.”

            “It’s okay,” Nick tells him, “I mean… I’m glad you didn’t smite me, because it looked like you were about to. But… I get it. I see how everyone looks at me. Lucifer did terrible things to you guys with my body. If he was here, I’d love to give him a piece of my mind, too.”

            Castiel musters up a tired smile. “That would be… nice.”

            Nick wrings his hands together, gnawing at his lip. He takes a look at the sandwich before returning to Castiel. “Y’know,” he starts, “maybe that _would_ be nice.”

            “The sandwich?”

            “No,” he shakes his head, “giving Lucifer a piece of your mind.”

            “I… I don’t think I follow?”

            “All of you are walking around on eggshells around me,” Nick explains, “And it’s exhausting. I know you all have something you want to say to me, but you think I can’t handle it because it wasn’t really _me_. But I’d rather hear what you have to say, that way I don’t have to guess at it every time that door opens and someone comes in to tend to my wound or –“

            “Or feed you.”

            “Exactly.”

            Castiel raises a brow. “Are you sure? Like you said – you aren’t Lucifer.”

            Nick shrugs. “Pretend like I am. I remember a lot of the things he did to you Castiel, there’s got to be something there you haven’t said to him.”

            “Well,” Castiel thinks, “I didn’t really appreciate getting killed. Not the first time… and especially not the last.”

            “That’s a start.”

            “And you were always talking,” he picks up, squinting at the memory, “whether you were powerless or full of power you… you never shut up. It was annoying, having to hear you go on and on about things no one really cared about. Watching you try and talk your way out of things… using your words to twist and manipulate others. To Sam Winchester years ago and Jack.”

            “Better! Really give it to him, Castiel!”

            “You never cared for anyone but yourself! Jack wasn’t really your son – not in the way it mattered. The second he pulled away from you, you tore yourself away from _him_. Tore yourself _out_ of him, separating him from his grace – maybe permanently!?! Forcing our hand so that Dean had to say yes!”

            “Castiel – woah, calm down there!”

            The angel stands, eyes glowing bright blue in the dark shadows of the room. His skin patches itself up, and his body glows from within. He steps into the sigil, wings growing behind him.

            “Dean said yes because you were angry we did the same thing you’ve done to us time after time,” he growls, “He’s gone because he trusted the lesser evil, to save our family from _you_. To kill _you_!” Castiel grabs Nick by the collar. “I wish it was me who drove the blade into you. Not Dean. I was willing, even if Michael burned me from the inside out. Even if the two of us combined weren’t strong enough. Because I knew that the second Dean said yes, he’d be lost to me. And now he’s not here and I – and you…” The glow starts to dim, and Castiel’s grip on Nick loosens. He pulls back, leaning against the wall once more.

            Lifting his chin, he sees Nick trying to stay calm as he picks at his skin. “That was good,” Nick mutters, nodding to himself, “You needed – you needed to get that out in the open. But, um that panic attack I mentioned earlier? I think it’s – I think it’s happening…”

            Castiel sighs, dragging himself close once more. Nick flinches as he brings two fingers to the other man’s temple. In the next instant, he collapses against his pillow, one arm dangling off to the side.

            ‘ _Just a man_ ,’ Castiel thinks, watching Nick, ‘ _A man still getting used to his own body…_ ’ He sighs. Picking up the plate, Castiel leaves Nick’s room.

            ‘ _And somewhere, anywhere on this planet, there’s a man trapped in his body, while an archangel drags him all over, and forces him to watch the misuse of his identity_.’ Castiel thinks, trudging back towards Dean’s room. He shoulders it open, letting the door swing back and forth as he collapses onto the bed.

            ‘ _Nick was right, though_ ,’ he thinks, kicking his shoes off and swinging his feet up, ‘ _Saying all that stuff to him as if he were Lucifer was… oddly freeing. However, I doubt he could take it if anyone else decided to lash out like I did_.’ Castiel takes a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly, letting his mind get lost in the tastes and textures, breaking it down and identifying each molecule. He sinks further into the bed with his next bite, resting his head against Dean’s shirt.

            ‘ _Wherever you are Dean… there’s so much I wish to say to you. I don’t know if you can hear me… maybe Michael is letting you listen to these prayers as a way of torture… and if that’s so, then I’ll keep whatever I have to tell you to myself until you’re freed. That way you’ll have something to look forward to once this horrible nightmare is over. I hope this gives you the strength to fight through._ ’

            Castiel takes another bite, closes his eyes, and savors it.

**Author's Note:**

> What did ya think? Did I give you just that little extra bit you wanted? Let me know!!


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